


Crystal Night

by kaijuvenom



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Trapped in a Time Loop, F/F, F/M, Largely Inspired By Swedish Folklore, Trans Bisexual Deceit, Trans Nonbinary Lesbian Roman, brief descriptions of body horror, gratuitous use of unnecessary magic, i really feel like im forgetting tags but honestly, mentions and depictions of death and dead bodies, mentions of clusters of small holes, past virgil/deceit - Freeform, thats for my trypophobic fam out there, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijuvenom/pseuds/kaijuvenom
Summary: During the final seconds of Roman’s life, Dee held them in her arms, looking up at the sky, and wondering, for what felt like the millionth time, if this was perhaps all some sick joke. She wouldn’t put it past Virgil to think it would be funny to repeatedly kill her new partner over and over again in her nightmares. But at this point, the nightmare was getting a bit repetitive. Virgil had always been more creative than this, and she was forced to believe that this was, in fact, real life. She heaved a heavy sigh, pressed a kiss to Roman’s forehead, and let them fall, lifeless once again, onto the pile of pillows she’d laid out for them on her bed, and began preparing the usual steps she took to reset the timeline.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Crystal Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucernis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucernis/gifts).



> This was requested by my beautiful and talented and wonderful and hilarious friend Mercury, so it's dedicated to them! Also read their lesbian roceit superhero AU it's my favorite thing in the world.

Dee carefully wrapped the twine around the little bottle, tying it tightly, and chanting under her breath as she did so, securing the bottle around the waist of her poppet.

“The Earth is my mother, I shall not want. The Earth is my mother, who nurtures in green pastures. The Earth is my mother, who freshens in blue waters. The Earth my mother, I ask to restore a body and awaken a soul, The Earth my mother, nurture Roman in your green pastures, freshen Roman in your blue waters. The Earth my mother…” she continued reciting the prayer, her voice melodic and quiet, as she sewed the head of the poppet closed and cut the thread. 

“You’re still on that? Y’know, eventually you’ll have to cut your losses. I’m always here if you ever feel like doing something _real_.”

Dee would like to say she hadn’t jumped at the sudden intrusion of Virgil in her home, but she’d tried to cut down on lying recently, so she just sighed and turned around after finishing the prayer, gently setting the poppet down.

“I don’t do that anymore, and you know it,” Dee responded sourly, watching as Virgil casually strolled over to her bed, where Roman’s dead body was still lying. She tensed, but he didn’t even glance at the body, instead going to the little iron key with a dried sprig of betony tied to it that dangled from the top of Dee’s bedpost. 

He poked it once, then hissed at it like a cat and batted it off the bedpost, knocking it to the floor. “That’s cheating,” he said, making a face as he looked down at the key, rubbing his hand where he’d touched it. 

Picking up the key and placing it in her skirt pocket, Dee stood up. “I thought my, what’d you call it, _kitchen witch_ spells and charms were no match for you?” Dee said tauntingly, holding up the key and dangling it in front of Virgil’s face. “Don’t tell me my domesticated Swedish paganism actually _worked_ on keeping you away.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, avoiding eye contact with her. “I could’ve gotten past it if I’d wanted to. I just don’t give enough fucks about messing with your dreams.”

“Sure you don’t. You give so few fucks that you actively visit me, popping in unannounced, roughly three times a week, for no discernible reason.”

“I’m just amusing myself. It’s cute how you _still_ haven’t given up on them. Like watching a trainwreck.” Virgil finally looked at Roman, an amused smile on his face. 

Dee clenched her teeth, a second away from physically pushing Virgil out the door.  
“I’m never giving up on them.” _Not like you gave up on me_ , Dee added in her head. 

“Suit yourself.” Virgil shrugged, stepping away from Dee and back towards the front door. “But you know I can bring them back like _that_.” He snapped his fingers in front of Dee’s face for emphasis, before opening the door, giving her a sarcastic little two-fingered salute, and slamming it behind him.

“Not without torturing them! Not without dooming us both to eternal purgatory!”

“You’re already in purgatory, Deceit, what would a little more do?” Virgil called through the door. 

Dee slammed her fist against the door and she felt the hinges quake. She mumbled a small apology, although to who, she wasn’t quite sure. “I _told you_ not to call me that!”

“You know I’ll still be here if you change your mind!” Virgil responded, apparently unphased by the slamming against the door. 

Dee didn’t move from her position leaning against the door until she stopped hearing Virgil’s moody footsteps rapping against the pavement. 

She sighed against the wood, sliding onto the floor and curling up, a sob working her way up her throat. Virgil was right--she was already in purgatory, she was trapped here with Roman until she could find a way to save them.

She pushed the sob down, opening her mouth to whisper out a prayer, the first one she’d learned after leaving Virgil, the first one that made her feel something that wasn’t terrible fear, anger, or hatred.

“Smoke of air and fire of earth, bless and cleanse this home and hearth,” she paused, swallowing down another sob, “drive away all harm and fear, only good…” Her voice broke off, and her inability to finish the prayer felt like one final indignity. She finally sobbed, trying desperately to finish the prayer through tears but somehow finding it impossible. She started over, speeding up, beginning to feel desperate. 

“Smoke of air and fire of earth,” she whispered, looking up briefly and catching sight of Roman’s lifeless body and looking away again, forcing herself to think about anything but how afraid she was, afraid that she’d never be able to save them. “Smoke of air and fire of earth… bless and cleanse this home and hearth, drive away all--all harm and fear, only--only--” She choked, retching, her throat apparently finding a mind of its own to prevent her from speaking the words. “Smoke of air and fire of earth…” She trailed off, forcing herself to give up. It wouldn’t work, she should focus on Roman. Virgil might be a pain, an unhappy reminder of the person she used to be, and occasionally a bit cruel, but he wasn’t all that terrible, really. He was lonely, probably jealous, and lashing out at her for it. She could concern herself with him, and figure out exactly what was wrong with her that she was unable to finish a simple protection spell, once Roman was safe.

So she picked up the poppet again, adjusting the little shield on its chest, combing its brown hair with her fingers, took a deep breath, and allowed herself to be pulled backward, counting in her head the dates until she reached the day she had met Roman. It was routine by now, and perhaps that was one of the reasons she had yet to succeed. The novelty of it all had worn off, it felt natural, and, although she tried not to think about it, she knew that the sight of Roman dying in her arms didn’t phase her near as much as it used to. 

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her house, and instead in a coffee shop on the other side of town, wearing a long, white dress with black flowers patterned across it. She felt across her hand, feeling familiar bumps on her skin, and was sure the side of her face was back as it had been. As it probably should be, she conceded. 

Dee would always insist she’d gotten the short end of the stick, when compared to her siblings, who somehow got away with only their father’s flawless appearance, but of course, Dee had to go and inherit the scales of her mother. It had been a pain in the ass to get Roman to marry her in a Catholic church--and not just because they weren’t Catholic, but because, as Dee had discovered during the wedding rehearsal, she seemed to have the same reactions towards walking in a church as most demons did. She had not been elegant when walking down the aisle.

But it had all been worth it when they’d been announced married and she’d felt the scales melt off her body for the last time. Or at least, what she’d been expecting would be the last time. Clearly, fate had had different ideas for that, she thought, as she rubbed at the scales on her hand from over the glove she was now wearing. 

Meeting Roman for the first time in that little coffee shop was routine now, but that didn’t mean Dee felt any less happy when she saw Roman walk through the door, alive and well. 

********

Roman wasn’t cursed, Dee had made sure of that. She’d even delved into the depths of the forest to find the Erlking during one of her more desperate, and poorly thought out, timelines. They had no connection to a single spirit, spell, curse, or Eldritch horror, which, while good for Roman, was terrible for Dee. It meant there was nothing she could do except continue to reset the timelines and hope something changed if she just did something a _little_ different. It was all up to chance. And, of course, the poor little poppets of Roman she continued to make, filling them with protection spells and bits of Roman’s hair and enough garlic and basil to make a very protective pasta sauce.

Her familiar rustled in the bushes behind her, and she turned to watch him through her open window, its white fur sticking out from the dying grass. At the moment, he was a hare, and he hopped onto the windowsill, watching Dee with bright eyes, as if he was saying, _really? You reset it again? How many times are you going to do this?_ Which, knowing Gödika, it was probably exactly what he was saying. She gave him scratches behind the ears and threw him a grape in response.

Four months into the current reset, and it happened. It had never happened that quickly before, the shortest period of time she’d had with Roman in the past had been eleven months. She spotted the shadow of the Hel horse outside her window at night, standing at the edge of the forest, as she was hanging the iron key back up around her bedpost after adding fresh betony to it, Roman sleeping soundly in her bed. 

“No,” she said, forcefully, staring at the dark shadow of the three-legged horse, its eyes glowing bright in the night, as if a strongly worded complaint would make it change its mind and leave. It did not, obviously, as it continued staring at her, unblinking, before it trotted off, back into the forest, apparently satisfied its message had been received. 

“God _damnit_ ,” she muttered, clenching a fist and slamming it into the windowsill, making her herb pot rattle. A black cat streaked across the grass outside and she narrowed her eyes at it, watching as it crept around the side of the house. Even obscured by the darkness, she could tell it was Virgil. She didn’t know how long he’d been there, but she was sure he’d seen the Hel horse just as she had. A thump sounded against the door, before Virgil cursed, probably annoyed she’d replaced her silver door handle with an iron one, then went silent.

He’d try coming through the window next, and Dee didn’t have the energy to reach over and close the shutters, so she just watched as the black cat sprang up out of the darkness and landed on her floor before morphing into Virgil, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. 

“What are you doing here?” Dee asked, distress evident in her tone even as she tried to hide it. “I don’t have time for your pathetic-”

“And I don’t have time for your pathetic insults, so listen,” Virgil interrupted, and Dee, unused to Virgil using a tone so serious, stopped talking and crossed her arms, waiting for him to speak. 

“You’re cursed,” he said, and he said it as if he’d known it all along, had been carrying it around with him for years and years and finally releasing it was like the weight of the world off his shoulders.

“ _What_?” Dee asked incredulously, and a laugh escaped her. “That’s impossible.” She laughed again, although it was a bit desperate, the humor not quite reaching her. “It’s literally impossible for me to be cursed. Besides, what does that have to do with-”

Virgil interrupted her again, standing up and putting his hands on her shoulders, shaking her a little.

“You’re cursed, Deceit.”

“You know I don’t like it when you call me-”

“I don’t know how or why, or who, I don’t even know _when_ , all I know is that you’re cursed, and because you’re half havsrå, and all of the protection spells and rituals you cover yourself with, it can’t get to you.”

“Virgil, what- what the hell are you talking about?” If Dee could describe her feelings at the moment, the most apt would probably be _bemused_. Virgil was known for playing intricate and often malicious jokes, part of the fun of being a nightmare fairy, she supposed, but even Virgil wouldn’t dedicate himself _this_ much to a joke. He’d never been a good actor.

“What are you talking about?” She repeated, silently begging for him to back away and announce the jig was up.

“I’m sorry, Dee,” he said, looking away from her and at the sleeping form of Roman. Although Dee should probably correct that, they’d probably died a few minutes ago. “I only knew about it because my familiar told me. It can’t harm you, but anyone who gets close to you, the person who’s closest to you, it... “ he trailed off, taking a couple steps backward. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No, no,” Dee said shakily, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “You’re- no. No.” She wasn’t going to believe it, she couldn’t, because if it was true… well, she didn’t want to have to think about that.

“It’s why I left, before it could get to me. Why I started pulling away from you. I should’ve told you, but,” he paused, as if he’d never really considered the reason why he hadn’t told Dee this life-changing thing, “I thought it was me, somehow. That I inadvertently cursed you, ever since I was young, I was told to never sleep in the same bed as someone else, let alone to sleep in the same bed as someone else _without_ bothering to give them nightmares, or I’d- well, no one ever elaborated on what would happen, and I really don’t know if it was- if it was me or that was a coincidence, but Dee, I’m _so_ sorry.” 

“And you’ve known all this time? For all these resets? How many times have you sat in my home, taunting me, laughing as I mourned Roman’s death, _knowing_ that nothing I would do would save them, _knowing_ what the answer was, and refusing to give it to me?”

Virgil flinched back at her words, looking down at the rotting floorboards. “It wouldn’t do any good, if I’d told you then or if I told you now, or if I never told you, because you know there’s only one way to prevent a death curse like this, and you would’ve gotten there eventually.”

He was speaking, of course, of the option Dee had always known had existed. She’d tried it once, but a week into the timeline reset, her resolve had broken, and then everything afterward had happened like clockwork. 

“I can’t,” she whispered, standing and walking to her bed, taking Roman’s hand in her own. It was cold. They were unmistakably dead, dying in their sleep while Dee had been in the room, and she hadn’t even noticed. She knelt on the floor, gripping their hand in hers. “Letting go of Roman… I can’t do it. It would be like- like losing a piece of me, a part of my meaning. They’re-” Roman wasn’t _everything_ to Dee, her world didn’t revolve around theirs (or it hadn’t before, back when she hadn’t known about their death), but something was connecting them together. She didn’t know if it was spiritual, they were soulmates, connected by fate, bonded together by the number of times Dee had tied his lifeforce to hers in different timelines, forever linked with sympathetic magic, or if she was just really in love, but she didn’t think she was physically capable of letting him go. 

“I know,” Virgil said, his voice quiet and gentle, a tone she hadn’t heard him use in years. “But there isn’t another option.” Unless she wanted to get out of her domesticated Swedish kitchen witch phase and go back to the blood sacrifices. 

“You should’ve told me before I ever met him.”

“I know,” he repeated, “I’m sorry,” and he was beginning to feel like a broken record, but there wasn’t much else he could say. He wanted to say something reassuring, to tell her she would still have him, he’d always be there for her, but he knew it wouldn’t be true. He’d have to stay away from her, or risk dying as well. She’d have to free her familiar, too. 

“I guess you were right when you told me I was like a lonely old hag living in her cottage in the woods and hissing at trespassers.”

Virgil bit his lip, leaning down and engulfing her in a hug. If this was his fault, there had to be some way to fix it. He’d make things right, Dee deserved that much from him. 

Dee pulled away from the hug, leaning away from him. “You should leave,” she said, and Virgil was glad to see there was far more concern in her face than discomfort at Virgil’s initiation of physical contact. 

“Right.” It wouldn’t do well for Virgil to die right after deciding he needed to help Dee. 

“Let me know when you’re planning to reset the timeline again.” He said it like a question, voice rising half an octave towards the end.

“Why?”

Virgil shrugged. “So I can check in on you, make sure you’re okay. Bring you some happiness herbs, or whatever, however that works.”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Aw, Dee, are you worried about me?” Virgil asked, not able to completely push down the tiny grin that slid onto his face at that minuscule confirmation that Dee might actually still love him, at least a little bit.

Dee didn’t answer, she simply glared at him until he began back away, holding up his arms in surrender as he headed back towards the window, feeling for the windowsill. 

“Be careful of my plants,” Dee said halfheartedly. 

Virgil glanced behind him briefly, then leapt up so he was sitting on the edge of the window. “Have I ever told you how much of a pain this is?” He asked as he carefully lowered himself backward.

“Every day we were together. In fact, it’s one of the only things I remember clearly about our time together. I seem to recall a time when you drunkenly wandered into my house and attempted to leave through the window as a cat. I found you howling in pain with half your fur burnt off.”

“Shut up,” Virgil mumbled, his face reddening at the recollection. He let go of the windowsill and let himself fall the rest of the way out the window, landing on the dirt with a hard thump. “Ow,” he commented, before standing up and brushing himself off. “Well, I’ll see ya around.”

“I hope not,” Dee responded, giving him a look that quite plainly said, _if you come back here to keep me company, I’ll kill you myself before the curse can_. 

Virgil didn’t say anything else, he’d never been great at lying--that was a talent best left to Dee, so he gave her an awkward wave goodbye that he immediately regretted and transformed back into a cat, scampering off into the dark.

********

Dee didn’t reset the timeline right away, in fact, she didn’t do anything for a rather long time. Roman’s body was still lying on her bed, a crown of yellow and red flowers placed on their head and a protective enchantment meant to keep their body from decomposing for some minutes Dee had yet to determine. 

This was good news for Virgil, as it gave him an ample amount of time to locate the Askafroa, which, in hindsight, should not have been as hard as it was, but Virgil had never bothered learning to speak Swedish, so he wouldn’t know to look for an ash tree. He also didn’t know what an ash tree looked like to begin with. It didn’t help that the Askafroa was thought to be a myth, even by the standards of nightmare fairies and Rå.

As far as his knowledge went, the Askafroa _was_ a Rå, a nature guardian, and that it was big on sacrifices. Specifically on Wednesday’s. And it didn’t like it when you touched its trees. The few stories about it he could find all went something like, _the wife of the ash tree is as old as the mountains themselves and deadlier than time. Do not invoke Her at all costs._ He chose to ignore those warnings. 

None of the stories described how exactly to invoke her, so he made the executive decision to wing it. He found what may or may not have been the oldest ash tree in the forest (listen, he didn’t have the time to locate every single ash tree and carbon date them to find the oldest, and really, it couldn’t possibly matter _that_ much), plucked a clump of dandelions from the ground, set them on fire with his lighter, and sprinkled the ashes around the base of the tree in a circle, chanting an old summoning spell as he did so. 

Then he waited. And waited. And waited. It was a good thing he was used to staying up all night staring at nothing, consumed by anxiety, because that was exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m not leaving until you show up,” he said stubbornly, and he felt stupid for talking to a tree, all of this was so far removed from what he usually did, Dee was the one who worked with forest spirits like the Rå, Virgil usually chose to do things on his own, relying on his own power rather than invoking the power of others. He didn’t care much for the concept of being in some random spirit’s debt. 

Of course, that was exactly what he was doing now. 

_“Vad åberopar du mig för, bortbyting?”_

The voice was airy and distant, like someone speaking down a long hallway as you strained to listen to their words. “Uh,” Virgil responded, because he wasn’t sure how to tell an ancient, malevolent Eldritch god he didn’t speak Old Swedish. Or New Swedish, for that matter. He couldn’t even name five IKEA products off the top of his head.

 _“Why have you invoked me, changeling?”_ This time, the voice was in his head, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer out loud or not. 

“Um, hi. Name’s Virgil. Sorry for disturbing your slumber. Or whatever. I came to ask a favor, I guess.”

 _“I grant no favors to changelings.”_ The speaker appeared, a wispy outline of something resembling a human, before fading away again.

“I need you to remove a curse,” Virgil pressed on, unbothered by the waves of fear rolling through him. He could tell they were artificial, created by the Askafroa, and to be perfectly frank, they were weak. All of Virgil’s powers rested in fear, so perhaps he was biased, but he’d expected more. 

_“Your lover, Deceit of the western salt.”_

Virgil opened his mouth to argue the _lover_ portion, but chose instead to remain quiet in that aspect. “That’s the one.”

_“I will not aid you.”_

That was pretty much what he’d figured. “But you can.”

_“I am capable of a great many things. Few come to me, my name has been forgotten, even among the lips of your kin. You have given much to look upon me.”_

“It wasn’t that hard,” Virgil muttered.

_“I speak not of your walk through the woods, changeling. To gaze at my form is to force upon yourself a lifetime of fear and unimaginable torment, far more than you could pass onto others in their dreams. Leave before it destroys you.”_

Another tremor of fear jolted through Virgil’s body, and he pushed it out, throwing the energy into a nearby rosebush, which withered and died almost instantly. He swallowed, wondering if maybe he’d misjudged the Askafroa’s power. 

“I’m not leaving here until you tell me how I can remove Dee’s curse,” Virgil said stubbornly.

_“She remains unaffected by the curse, it cannot harm her. What more would you have me do?”_

“ _Physically_ , yeah, but it’s still hurting her. It’s killing everyone close to her, it’s ruining her life, and it’s my fault, I know it,” Virgil said, beginning to wish he’d brought a chainsaw with him to simply chop down the ash tree to prove he was serious.

 _“Your fault?”_ The spirit repeated, and it flickered into view again. It was much less human than Virgil had originally believed, with no discernible face, only something vaguely in the shape of a body, gnarled wood making up its entire form, spindly branches extending from about where its stomach would be, coated in some sort of sap, which also oozed out of small clusters of holes in sporadic locations all across its body. Virgil stared at them for too long and they moved, expanding and contracting like the being was breathing somehow. 

“I cursed her, by sleeping in the same bed as her, I didn’t listen to the warnings, so yeah. My fault. Which is why I’m here, to make things right.” 

_“You are a fool if that is what you believe.”_

“Well, you talk like my five hundred and seven year old grandmother, so who’s the real loser here?”

_“Your witch is cursed because of what she did long ago. It took a hundred years to reach her, I believed it never would, but when she began resetting time, it gave the curse time to reach her.”_

“What are you talking about?” 

_“Deceit of the western salt violated the laws of nature, she committed some of the most heinous actions possible against others, and no amount of protective herbs and prayers to the Earth mother or the spirits of the forests or the oceans may protect her from what she did.”_

Virgil sighed, frustrated. “I’ve been in her mind, I’ve seen her fears, she’s not hiding anything like that. I’d know. Stop lying and just tell me how to-”

He was stopped when one of those disturbing, sap-covered branches extended, growing out of the spirit’s stomach, wrapping around Virgil’s arm and squeezing him tightly. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t speak or move, the world turned into a shining white light around him. 

_“You have heard of the face stealer, as it was known, have you not?”_ The spirit’s voice was the only thing he could comprehend, so he clung to it. If he’d been able to speak, he would’ve scoffed. The face stealer was more of a myth than the Askafroa itself, only this one was well known, a story told to children, on par with leprechauns or ethical consumption under capitalism. Completely impossible and ludicrous.

_“You think it a story told to children, a way to keep them at home at night, to not trust strangers. It is not. Your Deceit was what is known as the face stealer.”_

This was bordering on stupid, Virgil would have laughed if he were capable of speech or movement. 

_“Deceit stole the lives of those she believed would be better off without them. She made a deal with the ancient ones, to have the power to deceive others, to lie to them and have it always be believed, if in return she granted the ancient ones with the faces of others. She kept them in a wooden chest in the forest, buried beneath the dirt and locked tightly.”_

Virgil could see it, in his mind, like the Askafroa was showing him, he could see Dee, she looked different, younger, probably a teenager, wearing a black cape, and there wasn’t a scale on her face, only a strange marking across one cheek, Virgil recognized it as an old Nordic rune, but he had no idea what it meant. Most of her face was obscured by the hood of the cape, so he couldn’t be sure if it even _was_ Dee. It could just be ‘generic stock footage of a spooky witch woman running through a forest in the dark’. 

_“There was a beautiful young woman disowned and abandoned by her family, left to die in the streets, face pale and her entire body shaking, too far gone to be saved. Too far from dying to let live. So she became a face. A man afflicted with the wasting disease, who had no family, no friends, no life left to live if he managed to recover. But Deceit had needed him to fulfill her deal, so she took his face as well. And then a young girl with a disease doctors of the time couldn’t identify, but it was a rare blood disorder, thirteen years old, her hair brittle and her skin nearly translucent. A painless death was the happy ending she deserved, that was what Deceit thought, so she took her face and laid a flower on her grave. There were so many more, changeling. She stole so many lives, some deserving, some not, but it didn’t matter to her. She stole their faces and lived their lives.”_

Again, Virgil could see it, he could see this strange, almost parallel-universe version of Deceit, speaking in Old Swedish, reciting some sort of prayer, as she took a knife to a dead body that laid at her feet, peeling up the skin of its face as easily as one would a mask. He watched as she put it on, transforming into that same person that lay dead at her feet.

 _“She was cursed because she never gave up her last face. The face of a_ _havsrå who she found on the edge of a beach, washed up by high tide and unable to move back to the ocean. She stole the face and then stole her life, but she wasn’t meant to. The ancient ones had told her to never take the face of another being of magic. To punish her, they buried the memories of her past life underneath those of the havsrå, and she returned to the sea, believing she was and had always been her. The only thing she retained of her past life was the honorific, Deceit, and a penchant for lying. The curse was meant to kill her in exactly one hundred years from that moment.”_

Virgil wanted to comment that he thought maybe it was the Askafroa who had a penchant for lying, because this was so incredibly far fetched, but even if he were able to speak, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to say it. 

_“You believe I do not speak the truth. You only need to walk west until you arrive at the elm tree in the middle of a clearing, there the chest is buried, if you wish to see it.”_

He felt the spirit’s grip around him loosen before pulling away completely. His vision cleared, and he found he could move again. 

_“Now leave, changeling, go to the chest, or go back to your home. I have no preference, so long as you leave me be.”_

Virgil was quiet for a minute, staring at the writhing, vaguely human-shaped, mess of tree branches, before he finally responded. “I’m not going to find the chest,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m not going to look for evidence as to whether or not _anything_ you said was true, because I don’t _care_ . It doesn’t change a thing.” If there was anything that could be said for Virgil, it was that he was stubborn to that point it drove people insane (literally insane, he’d driven quite a few people insane in the past by stubbornly showing up in their nightmares until they were permanently scarred). “Dee isn’t that person anymore, you said it yourself. And besides, even if she _was,_ is killing another innocent human fair? Some shitty curse you made up.”

_“I was not the one who created this curse. I knew of it, of course, but I had no part in it.”_

“But you know how to remove it, don’t you?”

For the first time, the spirit seemed almost hesitant, like it was actually considering doing what Virgil wanted. _“A… life is required. But there are complications. It is not as simple now as letting one die. The timeline has been reset, to prevent the same death, over and over many times. Each time, Hel was cheated, and took the life again, and was yet again cheated.”_

“So?”

_“I am sure you know that time flows differently for those with the blood of spirits running through their veins. It is why Deceit could reset the timeline at all, and why the human lost their memories every time, but you did not. We exist outside of the confines of time. Hel has been cheated a soul every time the human has been brought back to life, and she remembers every one of them. She is owed nineteen souls, and yet another should the timeline be reset and the human resurrected once again.”_

“I'll do it,” Virgil said, and he considered sticking his hand out to shake on it, but he didn’t think the Askafroa had any hands. Or maybe it had too many hands, he wasn’t clear on that yet, and he didn’t really want to be. “I’ll do it. Nineteen people, and one more once Roman’s brought back to life again, and the curse will be lifted?”

_“Yes,” the spirit said. “But with one caveat. The last soul must be yours. You are the one bringing the sacrifices, and you have the blood of spirits within you, the same as the havsrå, the last victim of Deceit.”_

When Virgil didn’t answer, finding himself once again unable to speak (although this time for entirely different reasons than the Askafroa possessing him), it continued. _“I will allow you nineteen hours to consider your decision. Once the nineteen hours have passed, you will either bring me the souls within seven days, or you will do nothing.”_

“I don’t need nineteen hours,” Virgil said, surprising himself with his certainty. “I’m doing it. If this is the only way to prevent Dee from becoming the lonely old cursed bog witch eternally plagued by what might have been until she eventually drinks herself to death, I’ll do it.” He paused. “On one condition. When the curse is broken, and the timeline is reset back to the beginning, I don’t want Dee to remember any of the other timelines. Let her live out her life with Roman without being reminded of their death every time she looks at their face.”

_“This, I will do for you. Return once you have the souls, and I shall grant your request.”_

********

Dee was having a rather odd day, or at least, she supposed she was, perhaps she was coming down with a cold or something. She could remember getting dressed that morning, putting on the long white and black floral patterned dress, and walking to the little coffee shop, but it felt distant, like she’d done it years ago. She shook the feeling away as she glanced around the shop, catching sight of someone she would swear she recognized, but she couldn’t quite place them. They were familiar, in the way the smell of a scented candle was familiar, not quite making you think of a specific memory, but making you think you _should_ be thinking of a specific memory. She stepped towards them, tilting her head as they looked up at her. A bright smile formed on their face, and it made her heart flutter. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, offering a smile of her own. “But do I know you?”

They mirrored her contemplative head tilt, seemingly considering the question for a moment. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. But I can’t imagine how we would, I only just moved here.” They stood up, offering a hand. “I’m Roman.”

She took their hand, and an electric shock jolted up her body, making her gasp. “Dee,” she managed, trying to keep her breath steady. She’d never been one to believe in love at first sight, but now she really wasn’t sure. She didn’t know what else it could possibly be. 

“Would you mind if I…” she began, gesturing to the chair across from them as she dropped their hand.

“Of course not!” If at all possible, Roman’s smile became even brighter as they pulled the chair out, gesturing for Dee to sit. 

Somehow, she felt like she’d known Roman for years, like fate was bringing them together just as it had in every other universe. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt from [my tumblr](https://kaijuvenom.tumblr.com/) and prompts are still open (on my pinned post)  
> also here's my [twitter.](https://twitter.com/kaijuvenom)  
> 


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